


A Dream of You

by Person



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, F/M, flushed relationship, secretly depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Person/pseuds/Person
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day was going better than most, and it could only become better when she suddenly appeared in his hive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream of You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kink meme request of a character being turned on by another's heartbeat.

Equius felt that he was managing to control his rage to an admirable degree that day. He held it in check when the handle of his screwdriver snapped, leaving him scarcely an inch to hold onto. When one screw snapped and another was striped bare by a single overly-forceful turn he just narrowed his eyes and reached more carefully for the next.

It wasn't until he tore off the arm he'd just fixed into place while using the robot's shoulder to help himself to his feet that he lost any level of control, and even then he only clenched his jaw tightly enough to break a new tooth. The half-finished robot remained otherwise unharmed instead of being sent flying through the wall by the strength of the punch he would usually have thrown at it.

It was odd, but on some level he felt as if that day he'd known every misstep that was going to occur--the exact details rather than just the eternal knowledge that his strength would never allow him to complete any project without first dealing with at least a dozen major accidents and any number of smaller ones inbetween--and that sense of foreknowledge made it easier than usual to keep his temper in check.

He briefly considered spitting the tooth out in another small display of anger, but quickly pushed the thought aside. He would not allow himself to be so crass, not even when Aurthour was the only one who might possibly see the display; a true gentleman remembered his manners even in private.

He plucked the tooth from between his lips and moved to set it aside, only to pulverize it with a surprised twitch of his fingers when he suddenly felt someone else's hand brush through the ends of his hair.

Aside from that one small, unconscious, movement he froze completely still at the touch, waiting for some sign to let him know who it was from. Aurthour would not have allowed anyone to set foot in his hive without his approval unless either their blood was so high that he could not have denied them entrance, in which case he wouldn't dare risk harming them by moving while their hand was still on him, or else if it were Nepeta, whom it was even more important that he never harm.

He squinted at the vague reflection on his robot, trying to discern anything more than a hazy blur of grey and black and a surprising amount of red in its surface to give him a clue to who it might be. The most he was able to make out was that they seemed to have a fairly large set of horns before his curiosity was satisfied by a voice that he'd never thought, outside of fantasies that he'd never admit to, that he'd hear within his hive.

"I've found you!" Aradia said, a brightness in her voice that he'd never heard there before, even during the rare moments when he was in a position to overhear her cheerfully chatting with her low-blooded friends. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. There were things I needed to do first."

"Why--" he started, then remembered himself and snapped his mouth shut. If her blood had been at least green, or even one of the greener shades of yellow, it would have been acceptable for him to admit how completely she'd taken him off-guard. Degrading, but acceptable. But to a red-blood? No.

He latched onto the fact that she seemed to have thought he'd be expecting her to give him a cue how to respond. "It's fine," he said graciously. "I was so busy working that I hadn't realized it was time for you to arrive." Even as he said it he racked his mind trying to work out _why_ he should have expected her. Were it any other low-blood it was vaguely plausible that he might have rushed through a conversation without paying much attention to what they were saying and inadvertently given them permission to visit without realizing it, but not so with Aradia. He couldn't recall the last conversation with her that he hadn't been entirely engaged in, and if she had ever begged permission to come to his hive he wouldn't have forgotten it for an instant. He briefly considered the possibility that Aurthour might have attempted to give him a pleasant surprise by arranging her visit but almost immediately realized that was just as unlikely; Aurthour was too fine a butler to invite someone over without his permission.

He couldn't come up with any explanation for why she'd be there, not unless she was the one who was somehow misremembering setting up a meeting with him. At the same time he realized that there was some part of him which felt that her presence by his side wasn't only welcome but expected. That her being away for so long was the thing that had become strange and wrong, even though that was ridiculous.

She started to laugh, a light glad sound that almost made him want to smile awkwardly in response, and bowed over him closely enough that a lock of her hair fell over his shoulder. He stared out of the corner of his eye at it where it curled against his skin, the only part of her that he could see while she was still too close for him to dare moving, as she said, "You know, it's okay if you can't remember why I'd be here." Then she made him choke back a gasp by stroking the side of his neck with too-warm fingers--though he couldn't say why it seemed like they should be frigidly cold--and pressing her face against the back of his head. He could feel her lips moving against his scalp, her breath ghosting through his sweat-damp hair when she told him, "You'll need to remember eventually, but right now it won't hurt anything to put it off and just feel happy for awhile."

He comes up with another explanation for her presence, one that's disappointing but also seems like the most likely so far; he's somehow become lucky enough to have a dream untainted by the terrible visions that plagued all trolls in their sleep. He'd heard of it happening from time to time, nobody was entirely sure why but the most accepted theory was that when one was exhausted enough the part of their mind that sent the visions became too weary to fight against the soothing effects of sopor slime.

But he couldn't remember doing anything that would leave him that tired, and it didn't explain the way his freshly broken tooth was still throbbing in his mouth.

She walked around him, and he would have felt disappointed about her head pulling away from his except that she kept her hand in contact with him as she moved, dragging it from where it had touched his neck down his arm to where it could cover his hand when she perched on the edge of his workbench. Once he could see her he found that she was dressed absurdly, the foul color of her blood draped over her in garish layers, almost all of her beautiful hair hidden by an equally gaudy hood except for a few strands that escaped around her face, and strange false wings that quivered almost like they were real when she moved poking out of her back. He wondered if Nepeta had somehow convinced her to join her in her odd costume play, and found that the thought made Aradia's outfit suddenly seem much less distasteful. The idea that she might start to spend time with his moirail, that they might get along together well, was far from unpleasant.

She had been watching him quietly while he considered the thought, but now said in a tone that sounded like it was more to herself than to him, "I wonder when this is to you. You don't look surprised that I'm... healthy, and your horn..."

She reached out to cup his whole horn--and why did he think of it that way when it had never been broken?--and that was one step too far. He grabbed her wrist before he could remember that he shouldn't and held it tightly as he began, "If this is some type of jape--"

Then he choked on his words, staring at her wrist in his hand. It wasn't that it remained miraculously uninjured even though he'd forgotten himself that drew him up short, though at any other time that would have been more than enough all on its own. No, it was the faint thump he felt against his palm, shockingly noticeable even though he'd never have thought he could pick up such a slight movement so easily.

He moved his hand to press two fingers against her wrist and there it was, her pulse beating strong and as fast as if, incredible though it seemed, she was as excited at his touch as he was at hers.

And it was too much for him, he didn't know how or why but it was, her skin warm with life, her heartbeat under his fingers. He felt somehow like crying, even though an aristocrat of his station should never commit such a disgraceful display of weakness. He felt like bowing down before her and swearing all his pity to her for the rest of his life, even though she was such an unsuitable match and though they would both know it to be a blatant lie told in the heat of the moment because he would never abandon Nepeta.

Mostly he wanted to scramble for his tools and work out a way to make a machine that would capture the feel of that beat forever, so he could press his hand to it and remember whenever he wanted even if this turned out to be nothing but a cruel joke or a dream of what couldn't be.

When he finally dragged his eyes away from her ruddy veins and back to her face he found that the day could still get better. She was looking at him with an expression of striking pity that he'd never dared believe he might ever see on her face outside of his imagination, at least not directed towards him.

"You know, I don't hate you at all anymore," she told him in a low sweet voice and his insides did flip-flops; when had she ever hated him, and when could it possibly have changed? Then she laughed and he braced himself for the pain of a punchline to her actions, but instead she said, "I don't think I can hate _anything_ anymore, not even Vriska, so it's a good thing that doesn't matter now. You don't know how happy I am in every moment of time, just for being alive." She glanced at his hand where it was still clinging to her wrist and the corners of her eyes curved as her smile stretched even wider. "Or maybe you do."

The rules of proper conduct seemed less and less important by the moment, so almost without thinking about it he admitted, "I don't understand why this is happening now."

"Yes you do," she told him, sounding so certain about it that he had to believe her even though he thought he should know the contents of his mind better than she did. "You just don't remember right now. And didn't I tell you not to try yet? There are better things you could do. Like... you could stop playing statue and touch me now that I'm in a better state to appreciate it." She picked up his free hand from where it was still sitting sitting slack under her own and slid it under the bottom of her shirt, nudging lightly at his arm when he didn't move it further than there on his own. "Don't worry about hurting me, I promise that you won't. _Touch me_ , Equius."

The final words were an order, made in a tone far more commanding than someone with the type of swill she had in her veins should ever have been able to manage, especially when addressing someone so far their superior. They sent a jolt of heat straight through him, and his hand skittering up the soft skin of her stomach in its hurry to obey. It found its way to her chest, to the steady pounding even stronger there than in her wrist, then she took advantage of the fact that he was leaning into the feel of it to grab his mouth with a kiss.

And then and there he stopped caring at all if this were a dream or not. He had her heartbeat under both his hands. He had the feel of her warm breath puffing against his upper lip, just as thrilling in that same strange way. He had her body pliant against his, and the only noise of pain that came from the contact was his own when her tongue grazed the raw nerve of his broken tooth.

If it were a dream than he would gladly trade his normal life for it, and wished that it could go on without end.


End file.
